


Up the Wrong 'Un !

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [38]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Disapproval, Fisticuffs, hurt comfort, love and romance, man to man talk, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5169251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm and Sam are having a quiet evening at home, when Malcolm's phone rings......</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up the Wrong 'Un !

**Author's Note:**

> This story was the result of a brilliant prompt from @petersgal.  
> Who never fails to provide me with the inspiration for little tales!!
> 
> "So...here goes..sam gets a call from glenn and he is in a terrible state and needs help from her and malcolm,its a delicate matter..so what do they do?"
> 
> I wanted to invent a past for Glenn, we know he and Hugh were friends, we know he's a divorcee and has a sister in Wales......but the rest is all my own !!!

UP THE WRONG 'UN! 

Glenn Cullen.......  
What can you say about the man?  
An Everyman, a Joe Bloggs.  
Quiet, self effacing, the epitome of an odd job man.  
A plodder, but a man with a conscience, morally upstanding, and with hidden depths.  
Malcolm thought him a traitor, when he abandoned the party after the election and threw in his lot with the coalition.  
Even though he tried to redeem himself when helping to bring Nicola Murray down, Malcolm suspected he only really helped to wreak his own revenge, for her thwarting of his political ambitions.  
It wasn't until later, that Malcolm realised that Glenn was, in fact, a decent man, and, more to the point, a friend.  
The way he lambasted Oliver Reeder at the Enquiry. His subsequent resignation, and disgust at what the job, he'd been part of all his working life, had become.  
He saw what they did to Malcolm Tucker, he watched it happen, and he knew it stunk to high heaven.  
He was an unfailing support in those post-Goolding days.  
Malcolm had been shafted, and Glenn was going to do anything he could to get them all back.  
The bastards.  
His career, such as it was, disappeared down the toilet pan, along with Malcolm's.  
Like him, he no longer wanted to be a part of that world. His loathing for the likes of Reeder and Fergus was well known.  
In that time of crisis, Glenn Cullen showed his true metal. 

Since his divorce, Cullen had become a solitary soul.  
Spending a great deal of time with his elder, spinster sister, in Wales.  
Decorating, tiling, odd maintenance jobs, he was there, helping out.  
It was his bolt hole, just as Italy had been Malcolm's.  
Once the fall out from the party shake up dissipated, Glenn returned to London, and soon found himself working again, in a small accountancy firm, dealing with tax returns and the like.  
Able to go home at night and sleep the sleep of the righteous. 

He was now able to call the Tucker's friends.  
In fact Sam, made him feel like part of their family, he was often invited there, and he adored the children, all three, they were a breath of fresh air.  
Through Malcolm he was reunited with Jamie, and by extension his wife and child, and although perhaps not as close to them as he was to Sam and Malcolm, Glenn gained a tight circle, he never previously possessed.  
He was glad of it.  
Never more so than when trauma beset him. 

oOo

Cullen's two main friends throughout his school and university days were Hugh Abbott and Jonathan Makepiece.  
Hugh branched off into politics and through various misfortunes, faded into relative obscurity.  
Makepiece, however went into the Civil Service at the same time as his erstwhile friend and was highly regarded. A friend to the great and the good.  
No shit stuck to him, he sailed through the corridors of Whitehall with an air of the divine.  
Malcolm had not much cared for him, but recognised his integrity and tolerated him accordingly.  
Circling each other with a mutual respect, tempered with a degree of reluctant admiration. 

Malcolm and Sam were curled together on the sofa.  
It was that delicious quiet time, when the children, fed and watered and tucked up in bed, were sleeping.  
Nothing to do, nothing on TV, just peace, tranquility and each other.  
Warm and cozy tucked under her husband's arm, her head on his chest, they sat in companionable silence.  
The buzz and vibration of Malcolm's phone on the coffee table, nearly made him jump out of his skin.  
"Shit! Who the fuck can that be?"  
He snatched it up.  
"Tucker!"  
"Malcolm? It's me."  
The voice on the end of the line sounded strained, emotional, breathy.  
"Who is this?" He demanded.  
"It's Glenn, I hope I'm not disturbing you?"  
"Fuck! I didn't recognise you......what's up? You sound different."  
Sam, hearing only Malcolm's half of the conversation, and seeing his air of puzzlement, sat up, looking questioningly at him.  
"Sorry.......um......Malcolm? Can I ask a favour?"  
"Glenn, what's the matter? You sound odd!"  
"Um......I know I'm a pain, but could I come over?"  
"Stupid cunt! Of course you can.....no we're not doing anything, the kids are in bed. Yep......okay! See you in twenty minutes........no Glenn.....I don't mind, for fucks sake! Just get yourself over here!"  
Malcolm hung up.  
"Somethings wrong." He remarked. "He sounded weird."

oOo

It was in fact less than twenty minutes when a cab drew up outside the Tucker house.  
A gentle tap on the glass in the front door.  
Sam answered, Malcolm was in the kitchen, setting up the coffee machine.  
"Glenn! Oh my goodness! What on earth.......?"  
He leaned against the porch, face bleeding copiously.  
"MALCOLM! Quick!"  
She cried out, as he lurched forwards, Malcolm just in time to catch him.

Seated on a dining chair in the kitchen, as Sam applied a cold compress to his spinning head.  
His lip was split, but most of the blood was coming from his nose.  
"Gosh, Glenn, I think it might be broken." She pinched the bridge in an attempt to stem the flow.  
"Mate.....who the fuck did this? What the hell happened?"  
Malcolm handed his friend a Scotch.  
"Last person to smack me one, was you." Glenn remarked, trying his best to smile.  
"Don't fucking remind me! I'm not proud of that. Not proud at all. Fucking swore I'd never be that person."  
"I remember you grovelling an apology afterwards." He continued, as Sam began to clean his mouth, gently.  
He hissed in pain.  
"I'm so sorry Glenn. Turn your head a little, just so I can see inside the lip, into the light."  
Malcolm frowned.  
"Yeah....I remember too. Hated myself mate......truly!"  
"Doesn't matter. I probably deserved it." He shrugged.  
"Glenn, what happened? Did you get into a fight?"  
Cullen sighed, at the sound of Sam's gentle voice, leaning his head back to give easier access for her ministrations.  
"It was Jonathan!"  
"What? Why? He's your best friend!"  
"It's a long story!" Glenn winced as the lip bled anew. 

oOo

"We had a bit of a spat! He's not best pleased with me!"  
Glenn was seated in the lounge now, sipping a coffee gingerly.  
"Fucking hell, spill the beans for Christ's sake.....I'm all ears here!" Malcolm plonked himself down next to his wife.  
"I don't know what you're going to think of me......" His face was flushed, eyes fixed on the carpet.  
"I'll understand if you'd rather not be involved."  
"What have you done for fucks sake......? Fucked his wife?"  
"Er.....no......." Glenn paused for effect, "his daughter actually!"  
"His daughter? The lovely Lydia?" Malcolm started to laugh.  
"You fucking sly dog!!  
"I know! Oh, don't look at me like that! It's despicable, I know it is......and I'm thoroughly ashamed of myself.......I'm a stupid fool.......but there it is!"  
Malcolm clapped his friend on the back.  
"Mate! I don't judge! Presumably it was a consensual arrangement?"  
Glenn looked scandalised.  
"Of course! God, what do you think I am?"  
Sam smiled.  
"Malcolm is joking Glenn.....for goodness sake!"  
"How long?" Malcolm could not disguise his mirth, but it was tinged with a deep sadness and real compassion.  
"Well, we met at your literary awards thing......just kind of happened. Been seeing each other ever since......kept it quiet......couldn't really tell anyone.....it's just so......so.......I don't know......sordid!"  
"Sordid? Why?" Sam raised her eyebrows.  
"Well, the age difference of course......she's thirty-four........and I'm......well, I'm OLD!"  
"Oh, Glenn! Malcolm's eighteen years older than me......who bloody cares? Do you love her?"  
The look on his face as he raised his eyes to hers, told her the answer to that question.  
Her hand closed over his.  
"And does she love you?" She said softly.  
"She tells me so!" A sudden tear came to his eye.  
"Then where's the problem? She's a grown woman Glenn.....old enough to decide for herself who she wants.....and if it's you.......then that's all there is to say!"  
"Thank you Sam! I hoped you and Malc would understand. I only wish her father was as accommodating!"  
"So Makepiece thumped you, when he found out about the two of you?" Malcolm's expression clouded.  
"We were fed up with hiding it, so we decided to 'come out' as it were. It didn't go well. Jonathan completely lost it. Treated her like she was fifteen, and me like I was a dirty old man!"  
He looked so utterly desolate, that Sam threw her arms around him and pulled him into a hug.  
"Oh Glenn! This is awful. She must be so upset. Where is she now?"  
"She stormed off, went to her flat." Sam pulled back, her thumb brushing away his tears.  
"Call her, Glenn. Tell her to come here."  
Sniffing loudly, his demeanour suddenly more hopeful, Glenn reached for his phone.  
Within half an hour the doorbell rang. 

oOo

Sam opened her front door for the second time that evening.  
To a sobbing wreck.  
Pulling Lydia into her embrace, she ushered her inside.  
When she and Glenn set eyes upon each other , they rushed into a clinging hug.  
"Oh, God! Your face! What has he done to you!" She wept, shoulders heaving.  
"I'm okay! It looks worse than it is."  
Malcolm and Sam exchanged glances, Malcolm drawing his wife to his side, kissing her hair.  
"Well, this is a turn up, and no mistake!!" He beamed.  
"So fucking happy for the pair of you! Look at you both.....all in love. It's enough to make a man weep!"  
He turned back to Sam.  
"This calls for celebration! Let's get some champagne open! Raise a glass, and say fuck the lot of them!"  
Glenn, relinquishing his grip on his tearful lover, smiled in spite of himself.  
Handing a flute to the distraught woman, Malcolm smiled.  
"Lydia....you are a grown lass.........your father doesn't get a say in who you fall for.....he'll come round. Tomorrow I'll go see him.....if he'll see me.....have a chat. See if I can make him see sense."  
Cullen swallowed, thickly.  
"You'd do that? He would see you. He always had the greatest respect for you....I know he did."  
"Well, I can try.......maybe from an outsider.....someone in the same boat.....he might decide it's not so bad after all. We'll see. Now....." He clapped his friend on the back. "Cheer up. It's not the end of the world. You're in love.....what could be nicer?" 

oOo

True to his word, the following morning Malcolm was admitted cordially into the Makepiece household.

"Tucker!" 

Jonathan entered the room, with the air of a feudal lord.  
"Makepiece! Good to see you. I expect you know why I'm here." 

Frowning, the father ushered Malcolm into his study, his inner sanctum.  
The decor resembled a Masonic Lodge. 

"Why do I feel like Tom Brown......being shown in to see the Headmaster? We're not at public school here Jonathan. I'm here to speak to you man to man."

"I'm guessing you're here to extol the virtues of your friend Cullen." 

"Your friend too, John, you've known him longer than I." 

"Not any more. Not since he defiled my daughter!" 

"Defiled? For fucks sake Makepiece, step out of the Seventeenth century! She's thirty-four!"

"She was all set to marry Reginald Burton......eminently suitable, good family, lovely fellow." 

"Yeah, she told me......also a complete cock, into model train sets, snorts coke, and whom she can't stand the sight of......you sound like the Duke of Titshire......looking for a suitable status match, like she's some kind of commodity. Have you listened to yourself?" 

Jonathan's eyebrows raised at Malcolm's graphic description.  
"And what exactly does it all have to do with you MISTER Tucker?"

"Well, quite a lot actually. Since it was my house Glenn turned up at with half his face hanging off. Luckily for you he doesn't want to press charges for assault, but that's another matter. I came because Glenn is a friend and I'm living proof that a relationship like theirs can work."

Makepiece shifted uneasily in his seat, his eyes holding Malcolm's steady gaze, but then quailing as the younger man refused to look away.  
"I'm listening." He responded uneasily.

"What exactly is it that you have against Glenn, as a potential son-in-law?"  
The older man flinched at the words.

"He's old enough to be her father. That alone is enough." 

"He's also loyal, and kind. Financially secure. Well brought up, morally upstanding......and he loves her.......need I go on?" 

"She'd be throwing herself away." 

"Why? You clearly haven't seen your daughter when she's with him......she's in love with him, Jonathan, she fucking adores him. I can see it, my wife can see it, why can't you?" 

"It's infatuation! A father figure, nothing more!" His fist thumped down on the desk top. 

"Why would she be looking for a father figure? She has a father who loves her, wants the best for her. Why would she need another?" Malcolm's voice remained even and calm.....  
"When Sam and I got together we......"

Makepiece interrupted.  
"It's different with you, you couldn't understand, you're just......"

"I'm just what? A different class? The underbelly of society? Don't know any fucking better? Not one of the tit wank high born upper class prigs? What exactly am I ?"

"That's not what I meant......"

"I may be the son of a dock worker, and Sam the daughter of a teacher, but I recognise love, Jonathan. It's the strongest emotion there is. No, I didn't have a privileged upbringing, my father was a bastard. I was a scholarship boy who never fitted in. A fucking misfit. But I worked very fucking hard, and I showed those Oxbridge cunts that I was every bit as good as they were.....any day.......  
......Breeding counts for nothing......age counts for nothing........love.......that's the only thing that matters. The only thing that makes any sense in the world today.  
Lydia loves Glenn. He makes her happy. And for what it's worth I know he'll take good care of her, because that's the sort of bloke he is. You know him......you know that's true." 

"If they marry, she's no daughter of mine, and he's no friend!"

Malcolm stood up, walked around the desk, his fingers tracing the spines of the volumes on the bookshelves. The silence hung in the air between the two men.  
At length, he turned to address the older man once again.

"So you'd do that? Break her heart. Separate yourself from your own child because of some stupid fucked up notion of propriety? Condemn her to years of broken Christmases, family get together's with you on the periphery, deny yourself the chance to hold your own potential grandchild, lose a friend that you've known ever since you were boys together, been through thick and thin, all those shared moments of pain and triumph, tossed away because of your own ridiculous stuck up pride? I always thought you were a very intelligent man, Makepiece.....I see I was mistaken. You're an idiot, and if you can't see that, you need to look in the mirror."

"It's time you left Malcolm. I'll not be insulted in my own home." 

"Don't worry, I'm going. But I'll just say this. You have the chance of possibly walking your beautiful daughter down the aisle. Handing her over to a man who will love and cherish her until his dying breath. Don't throw that chance away, be the man I'm sure you are. She'll take him whether she has your approval or not, but you have the power to make her day.......don't be a cunt Jonathan.  
Be a father!" 

Walking towards the door, he turned again.

"I'll see myself out." 

oOo

Several weeks later, Malcolm and Sam were in their kitchen, the children packed off to school or nursery, they were enjoying a quiet breakfast.  
As Sam poured his coffee her husband threaded his arms around her waist, pulling her in.  
"Come here, gorgeous! Let me kiss you!"  
She giggled and turned herself to face him. His lips closing over hers.  
He let the contact turn tender, deepening, with warmth and heat coming from him, noses touching, whimpers of pleasure leaching from him as he tugged her ever closer.  
Parting purely so they could both breathe, she smiled down at him.  
"Such a good kisser! Can never get enough........" she murmured. 

Moving away she settled on a stool to open the local paper, taking a bite of toast.  
Flicking idly through, she came to the announcements page.  
One particular entry caught her eye.

_"Makepiece/Cullen._  
_Mr and Mrs Jonathan Makepiece are pleased to announce the engagement of their daughter Lydia to Mr Glenn Cullen. The wedding will take place next year."_

"Malcolm! Look at this!"  
Sam passed the newspaper to her husband.  
Malcolm gave a wry smile.  
"Thank fuck for that!"


End file.
